


Schrodinger's Cat Lives in Appartment 335

by Alfreds_Mustache



Category: DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Artemis is a bro, Blood and Injury, Dick Grayson is Bad at Feelings, Dick Grayson is Not Adopted, Dick Grayson is Not Robin, Found Family, Hurt Dick Grayson, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mild Hurt/Comfort, NOT traught!, Neighbors, No Romance, No editing we die like mne, Not by Bruce at least, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poor Dick Grayson, The Justice League exists, and doesn’t know when to ask for help, the OCs are Dick’s adopted parents, who are total trash btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23797855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alfreds_Mustache/pseuds/Alfreds_Mustache
Summary: On the nights she couldn’t fall asleep—which, on almost every occasion, was due to the loud thumps or yells coming from the other side of the shared wall— she’d lay under her covers and try to answer the question: Who, exactly, are the occupants of apartment 335?*For years, Artemis ignored the noises coming from next door. She was perfectly content with not knowing who her neighbors were or what they did... Until she discovers that one of the occupants is a 13-year-old kid.Now that she knows this, it’s harder to write off the noises as ‘nothing’... Something else is going on, and Artemis isn’t going to stand by and let it happen any longer.
Relationships: Artemis Crock & Dick Grayson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 93





	Schrodinger's Cat Lives in Appartment 335

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it’s not mine. All rights go to DC Comics.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: This fic deals largely with child abuse (physical, emotional, neglect)... There will be NO sexual abuse, rape, etc. anywhere in the fic.
> 
> Please take care of yourselves. <3

_“[If] you place a cat and something that could kill the cat (a radioactive atom) in a box and sealed it,_ **_you would not know if the cat was dead or alive until you opened the box_ ** _, so that until the box was opened, the cat was (in a sense) both ‘dead and alive’.”_

*

Artemis had never met the neighbors in the apartment next door, even though she was pretty sure they’d been living there longer than she and her mom. She didn’t know much of anything about them, just that they were loud, obnoxious, and rowdy. (Which was enough of a dealbreaker to decide that she absolutely hated them.) They were, in Artemis’ opinion, neighbors from hell.

She also didn’t know a thing about them, particularly how many of them there were. But she could infer little things. For a start, the two-or-more people in that apartment couldn’t stand each other, and loved shouting so much that it (the shouting) had more of a presence in that particular household than any member of it did.

Numerous noise complaints had been filed over the years, and more than a couple of times the police had been called; neither of which had stopped or prevented it in any capacity whatsoever. (In fact, as all other neighboring tenants could attest, it usually ended up making things worse and louder than before.)

They left the television on nearly 24/7, always at high-volume, and always well into the night. She could tell that at least two people lived there; with the constant disputes and arguments being had, it was an easy assumption to be made. (After all, another person had to be present for the fighting and bickering to take place.)

All of this being said, she’d never seen what they looked like, not once. Not that she particularly wanted to at this point. She’d much rather keep her distance, not get involved in whatever drama was being had over there.

Well, she didn’t actually know _any_ of her neighbors, really; Artemis and her mother kept to themselves as best they could, trying their best to blend in as normal civilians. They wanted to remain as inconspicuous and unassuming as possible— something that helped maintain their aliases as well as their general safety. (Simple rules in Gotham City that everyone who lived there knew: keep your head down, blend into the crowd, and don’t draw attention to yourself.) Despite this, she still couldn’t help but wonder what they were like.

On the nights she couldn’t fall asleep—which, on almost every occasion, was due to the loud thumps or yells coming from the other side of the shared wall— she’d lay under her covers and try to answer the question: _Who, exactly, are the occupants of apartment 335?_

Her answers were usually on the ridiculous side: Part-time bank robbers who only operated under the cover of darkness, former frat boys duking it out over the last microwavable burrito, heavyweight champions teaching each other basic housekeeping...

On more than one occasion she’d wondered if maybe she shared a wall with the Riddler, or some other half-pint villain. Maybe this is where Bruce Wayne had torrid affairs with his gay lovers (okay, she’d admit that that one was more speculation than anything else; much as she secretly hoped it was true in any regard, there was just _no way_ ).

She wasn’t a fool, certainly wasn’t ignorant to the darker side of life in Gotham. Crime didn’t always happen on the streets, in a darkened alleyway or a bank vault; twenty percent of all crime is domestic. (Artemis and her mother were part of that statistic, had lived it, survived it, and escaped it.)

She and her mom had moved here to escape the unsavory memories of her dad, of their old life. The area wasn’t much better, and they still had to watch their backs on a consistent basis, but it was in their price range and—more importantly— far away from Lawrence Crock.

The very-likely possibilities of what was going on next door were terrifying to think about, and put Artemis on edge whenever she did. Those thoughts always led her to her dad, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself sucked into repressed memories of the old apartment. It was a time she hoped never to think about or relive again, a time when dad’s toxic presence was constant, when her mom could still walk, when Jade was still living with them.

No, she couldn’t think about that, those days were gone; she and her mom were finally out, were finally safe (or as safe as can be considered for someone living in Gotham).

But the ridiculous thoughts and speculations kept her panic at bay, allowed her to distance herself from those thoughts (let her sleep at night). She didn’t allow herself to imagine the serious implications of such noises, the possibility that something very real, very likely, and very dangerous could be happening.

For her own peace of mind, Artemis had steered clear of any and all thoughts of worst case scenarios happening next door, and took comfort in the notion that ‘ignorance is bliss’.

By her own reasoning, it was a Schrodinger’s Cat situation; the happenings of next door had just as much potential to be harmless as they did to be detrimental. _But,_ if she remained objectively clueless to whatever it was (and she didn’t know exactly what ‘it’ was, either), there was no way for her to know decisively _which_ one was true, not unless she witnessed it herself.

In the past, and for the foreseeable future, she’d chosen to believe the former, more optimistic viewpoint, but didn’t dare seek any real answers or conclusions by opening the metaphorical box.

However, she failed to take into account one important factor: the cat within said ‘metaphorical box’ has free will and, as cats tend to do, will wander right into the lap of the unsuspecting.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay safe & wash your hands! Thank you to any & all frontline workers out there!! <3


End file.
